


Devoured, cleansed

by Frangipanidownunder



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Angst, F/M, MSR, Post En Ami
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-28
Updated: 2020-02-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:41:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22935751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frangipanidownunder/pseuds/Frangipanidownunder
Summary: Post En Ami, Scully faces Mulder.
Relationships: Fox Mulder/Dana Scully
Comments: 1
Kudos: 32





	Devoured, cleansed

Everywhere she goes she smells cigarette smoke. It’s soaked through her skin, into her veins and travels around her body to remind her of her miscalculation, his deceit, her stupidity. Even the coffee tastes foul. The mug chinks back onto the table and brown liquid slops over the side. A waitress, an older woman with a lined face, weathered like him, tsks and wipes the surface.

“It ain’t all that bad, honey.” The woman shakes her wrist to loosen a bracelet and Scully sees her yellowed fingers. Her stomach burns as humiliation washes over her again. “Believe me, he ain’t worth it. None of them ever are.”

The waitress breaks into a phlegmy chuckle and flips a dishcloth over her shoulder as she walks away. A minute later, she returns with another mug. “This one’ll make you feel better.”

Scully smells the new brew. There’s a smoky sweetness to it and when she sips it, she chuffs out a soft, accepting laugh.

The door opening lets in a whoosh of cold air through the coffee shop. She shivers, pulls up her collar, but startles at the touch of a hand on her shoulders. Swinging her face up, she sees Mulder there, smiling down at her. She sighs and it comes out as an irritated rush of air.

“That smells good, Scully.”

“What are you doing here?” She tries to keep her voice low, perhaps more for herself than for him.

The waitress comes over, a tray of dirty crockery jutting into her midriff. She runs a suspicious gaze up and down Mulder, then eyes Scully. “You okay, Mizz?”

As Mulder slides into the chair opposite, Scully lifts her hand. “We’re fine.”

“You want the same?” The waitress nods at the mug in front of Scully. “It’s our house special.”

Mulder shrugs. “Sure. Thanks.”

“It’s Irish Coffee, Mulder.”

He claps his hands together, so close to her that she feels the draught he’s created. For a split second the smell of smoke leaves her. “Well, it’s been cold enough.”

Her mood attributes an underlying meaning to his words and she feels the humiliation again. She can’t apologise again. It would be too trite. But the way he looked at her, the growl in his voice, “You saw what you needed to see in order to make you believe.”

“I went to your place. I called a few times.” She fingers her cell in her pocket, guilt shuddering through her. “Saw your car was still in its spot so I figured you might have gone for a run.”

Oh, she’d done that. She’d run and she’d boxed and she’d gone to the firing range and she’d scrubbed and scrubbed at her skin but the fury still thrummed through her. She’d been duped and surely it stung even more for her than it did for Mulder. That was the irony. How often had he been made to see to believe? How often had she been the one to unfold the tight corners of deception to reveal the truth to him? 

And now he’s sitting before her and she can’t read why. Does he mean to grind her down even further? Can he really ignore his own string of misdemeanours simply to underline her own error of judgement?

“I saw your hair,” he’s saying as he nods at the waitress, who’s set down his drink. “Through the window. Just a flash of red and…and…how you doing, Scully? I’m worried about you.”

“I’m fine, Mulder. You don’t need to worry. I…just needed some fresh air.” It’s the truth, whatever that is. Breathing in the stale odour of secondhand guilt has burned her lungs.

He tilts his head, licks his lips. “Scully, he…Smoking Man, he’s like a magician of the worst kind. Instead of pulling rabbits from his hats, he pushes rabbits into hats and has you believing that you suffocated Bugs Bunny. You can’t let him get to you. The guilt will devour you. That’s his power.”

She doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry. She knows all this, she knew it then, yet she still jumped in feet first.

“I won’t lie, Scully. What you did, it was stupid, dangerous. But,” he snuffs out a short laugh, “It’d be pretty fucking hypocritical to keep being angry at you. You know it. What I’m trying to say is, I think…I think my rage has been misdirected. I’m angry at myself for not seeing what I’ve always done in your actions. I would have done the same. I can’t blame you for taking the risk. I’ve taken more than my fair share and all for nothing too. I think I owe you an apology. That’s…that’s why I came tonight. To say sorry.”

Tucking her chin to her chest, she sits listening as the sounds of the coffee machine, of some pop tune with a repetitive beat, as other people’s chatter, fills the air. It’s comforting to hear the sounds of life going on around them.

After a while, when the waitress returns to take their empty mugs, Mulder reaches out to cover her hands. The stench of cigarette smoke dissipates briefly and she pulls in a deep breath as he asks, with a look of contrition crossing his face, “Can I walk you home?”

She nods, pushing back her chair. Mulder goes to the register to pay.

The waitress wanders over, a grin blooming at her creased lips. “I’ve changed my mind, honey.” Then, in an exaggerated whisper behind her hand, adds, “I’d bet my bottom dollar this one’s a truckload of hard work, but I reckon he’s worth it.”

As Mulder hands over the cash and looks over at her smiling ruefully, Scully buttons her coat, knowing the waitress is right.

Outside, fresh air fills her lungs but it’s Mulder’s hand clasped around hers that cleanses her.


End file.
